The night was thick, hot, and humid, the air filled with the menace of an impending thunderstorm as Zanny walked hurriedly down the dark and empty street. She knew she must be crazy to be out in this neighborhood at this time of night, dressed as she was, and yet this was the third night in a row that she’d been compelled by some unknown need to dress in her best clothes, her sexiest underthings, sheer stockings, her black pumps, and take a cab down to the center of this forlorn industrial wasteland where she would walk alone through these dangerous and deserted streets, wandering slowly, the sharp rap of her heels loud in the darkness. Eventually she would reach a boulevard or busy street where she would find another cab that would take her back up north to her flat, taking her safely away from this dismal and forlorn neighborhood as she gazed out the window filled with a strange mixture of relief and gnawing frustration.

She was young, beautiful and desirable. Many people had told her so but she would have known it anyway. It was a fact that she never tired of noticing, and sometimes, walking past an unsuspected mirror, her own image surprised her anew, making her marvel at what a fine and handsome woman she’d become, long legged, full-breasted, with intelligent eyes and a sensual mouth. It was no wonder that men flocked to her and that she could afford to pick and choose. Men had become second nature to her, and while she enjoyed the attention she provoked, she had learned how to play the game long ago, how to use what she had to get what she wanted.

But lately that hadn’t been enough. She’d grown bored with the people she knew, bored with relationships, with sex. It had all become so predictable, so unsatisfying. She did not want the marriage proposals she was offered. She did not want the tedium of romance, the tender, considerate sex, the avowals of love. She did not want the roses; she wanted something more direct, more physical. She wanted the thorns.

She stopped on a street corner illuminated by a dim yellow streetlight that barely penetrated the humid air, leaving dark pools of shadow in the empty doorways and the rubbish in the street. Far away she could hear the hot whine of tires on asphalt, and somewhere far in the distance there was the sound of an ambulance or police car. A forlorn traffic light a block down changed from red to green, the color reflected in the dark windows of the shuttered and abandoned shops, but there were no cars to notice it. Far in the distance, out in the west, she saw a slash of heat lightening. A cat yowled in heat.

Beneath her coat she wore a blue satin blouse, a bit too tight for everyday wear, and beneath that a good skirt. She had on her best underthings, sheer, sexy, and, despite the sticky heat, a garter belt and gray stockings. She stopped now, feeling herself in her clothes, the weight of her own breasts, the thick hunger in her vagina. When she turned her attention to her own body she realized that she felt terribly vulnerable and terribly sexy. It was a scary, edgy feeling she’d learned to savor. It made her feel peculiarly alive.

She had never even bothered to create a conscious rationale for what she was doing. Since she had accidentally gotten off the subway at the wrong stop several weeks ago, she found that something about stalking these streets in the dark, dressed for sex, aroused her in a way that nothing else did these days. She didn’t examine the feelings, didn’t wonder at them. The dim corner of her mind that knew what brought her down here was not consulted; she simply didn’t want to know. She only knew that after her walk she would go home terribly stimulated and masturbate with the most obscene and degrading scenes going through her mind, and that she would have explosive orgasms, almost frightening in their intensity, like none she had ever experienced with a lover, that left her drained and exhausted and able to sleep at last.

But then the hunger would be back again the next day. And she would be drawn back to these same, mean streets with their sense of immanent danger..

She knew that even now her fear had made her moist between her legs. Whenever she passed a particularly dark doorway or an alley, a place almost designed for rape, she would feel a delicious tingle in her stomach as she thought what if…

Suddenly she heard a low laugh from directly ahead of her. A man’s laugh. Another, and she froze. She cast a nervous glance down the side street, but it was too dark to see anything for sure and she was afraid to stare. The shadows cut the street into bands of gray and deep black, and as she turned her head back she distinctly saw the glow of a cigarette in the darkness, only a few doors down and on the same side of the street.

A thrill of real fear suddenly shot through her, knotting her stomach. In all her other walks she had never come across another soul down here, and she was shocked to discover that she was at a total loss now as to what she should do. She couldn’t run; that was out of the question. The thing to do was to look in control, look as if she knew what she was doing, and walk away. But she was paralyzed standing there, standing on the corner waiting for the light to change.

Probably it’s nothing, she thought. It could be anyone out for a stroll. It might even be the police on patrol. She turned and walked away from the men, trying to make as little noise as she could.

The came up behind her quietly. Too quietly to be anything else but trouble. The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle and she willed herself not to turn around, not to look.

“Hey, baby!” she heard one of them say. There was a surliness, a challenge in the voice and she knew he was speaking to her. Terror surged through her body and made her want to cry out. She dared not turn around. Her adrenaline made the whole scene crystal clear: the shadows, the broken glass in the street, the trash in the gutter. She heard one of them laugh, not ten feet behind her. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.

Suddenly one of them grabbed at her purse and pulled, spinning her around. Oh God, maybe they just want my purse! she thought in the instant before she saw them and a scream froze in her throat. They were two men, tall, lean, and both wearing ski masks. She had the impression of cruelly amused eyes, eyes which quickly swept her up and down. Stupidly, she heard herself say “No!”

The men didn’t run. The one who held her purse looked at her and beneath the mask she could see a slow smile spread on his face. She realized that he was black.

“Hey Doc,” he said, “What do you make of this?”

The other man stepped over. He had been hunched over, ready to run, and now he straightened to his full height and looked down at her. He was bigger than the black guy, and looked extremely powerful.

He snorted in contempt. “You must be lost, Lady.” he said. “You sure ain’t from around here.”

He took the purse from the black man and said, “Now I suggest you get the fuck out of here before you get yourself killed.”

But before she could turn and run, he changed his mind and grabbed her arm.. She could feel his enormous strength.

“Wait a minute, baby.” he said, stepping close.

The black man said to him. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

The white guy laughed. “Fuckin’-ay” he said. “Party time, huh Z?”

“Why not, man?”

“Yeah. Why the fuck not?”

Before she could react the black man, with surprising quickness was behind her, and grabbed both her wrists, twisting her arms down behind her back. The white guy stood close to her and looked her up and down.

“Oh yeah.” he said. “Oh yeah, this is one good looking piece of ass. All dressed up with no place to go.”

Her arms pinned back behind her exaggerated the proud thrust of her breasts and strained the buttons in the tight blouse, and he brought his hands up slowly, running his hands over her chest, testing the weight and resilience of her tits, filling his hands with her warm flesh.

”Yeah” he whispered lewdly, “Yeah, that’s nice. This one’s a keeper.”

His touch suddenly snapped Zanny out of her fog. She tried to scream, and to pull away from them, putting all her strength into it, twisting and writhing, but the hands held her wrists in an iron grip. She tried to kick the man in front of her but he just laughed and grabbed her ankle, lifting her other foot off the ground.

“No!” she spit, trying to kick him with the other foot. “Bastard!”

The man laughed again. They had her suspended between them, and the white guy took the opportunity to lift her foot even higher, spreading her legs so that he could look down beneath her skirt to her crotch and the sheer, thin panties she wore.

. “Whoa yeah!” he exclaimed in appreciation. ”Thank you, Jesus!” he said with a laugh, bending his head back and addressing the sky. “Thank you, Jesus!”

Z laughed with excitement and Doc jerked his head back to indicate the dark doorway behind him. Some sort of shuttered office building or warehouse.

“In here!” he said

Still holding her ankle he turned and kicked at the rotten boards that barricaded the doorway. The door itself had no glass and he soon battered a hole big enough for them to carry her inside, twisting and struggling. Zanny tried to scream, but she couldn’t get her breath. her throat seemed locked shut and all she could do was say “No! No!” through her clenched teeth.

Somewhere in her mind Zanny remembered hearing that in a nightmare abduction like this you should never let yourself be taken inside any building or car, and she gave a tremendous heave of her body, trying with all of her strength to twist out of their grip. The men staggered off balance for a moment but she was no match for their strength. They just laughed.

But when they got her inside to the dim interior where pale yellow light filtered in through the boarded windows, the man holding her hands seemed to loosen his grip enough so that she was able to pull his hand towards her face, and turning her head she sank her teeth into his flesh and bit down.

“Agh! Motherfucker!” he screamed, dropping her other hand so that she fell to the floor. She kicked up at the second man and felt her foot hit his body, then twisted away onto her hands and knees and tried to scramble off. Someone grabbed her hair and pulled her head painfully up and back.

Zanny saw stars before she felt the blow. Then slowly she felt her cheek start to burn and throb and she realized with a shock that they’d hit her. She heard a half-choked sob and realized that it was her own voice. Her head snapped the other way and again she saw bright splashes of light and tasted blood in her mouth. Then everything turned a throbbing red, the stars receded and she said “No! Don’t! Don’t!”

They released her hair and she fell back on the grimy floor, trying to clear her head. She could just barely focus on the piece of cardboard beneath her, then the red throbbing increased and the whole world faded out.

She could not have been unconscious very long, for when her senses cleared she was just as they had left her, holding herself up on her arms, staring at the cardboard. She passed her hand over her mouth. There was a little blood, She must have bitten the inside of her cheek. As her vision cleared she cautiously turned her head up and looked at the men.

One of them—the one called Doc--was dressed in military fatigues and a field jacket. He had a black ski mask over his face. The other, the man she’d bitten, was black, wearing sweat pants and an Oakland Raiders jacket. Both of them were breathing hard from their exertions and their exposed skin was shiny with sweat.

She apparently had not bitten the black guy as hard as she‘d thought, because she saw no blood. He was holding her purse in one hand, going through it with the other, throwing the things he found on the floor. Doc just looked at her.

The black guy found her wallet and looked in it, then looked through her ID’s. “Uh-uh.” he said to Doc.

“So she’s not a cop.” Doc said. He squatted down and looked at her. “What the fuck’s with you, bitch? What’re you doing down here? Hooking?”

It took Zanny a moment to realize that he was talking to her, then she didn’t know what to say. “No…I… I got lost…”

Doc squatted down, reached over and tilted her face up. His eyes were bright in his face as he looked at her clothes, the silky blouse, her skirt, her stockings. Behind him Z snorted and said “Twenty three bucks, man. That’s it.”

“Some outfit you got on, Baby.” Doc said. “These your getting-lost clothes? You look like you were going to a party. A private party, huh?”

Z laughed. Zanny felt the same warmth she always felt when men looked at her body, but raised to a dangerous, almost nauseating degree. She was aware that she was shaking. She felt as if her arms had no strength, as if she could not hold herself up.

Doc reached out and grabbed her hair, tilted her head back until she was forced to meet his eyes. He looked at her carefully, looking past the punch-drunk fog and the obvious fear, trying to read her, trying to fathom what a good-looking girl like this was doing in this part of town, dressed as she was. She wasn’t a cop. She wasn’t a junkie. And didn’t look that stupid that she didn’t know where she was ands what she was doing.

Slowly the look of animal excitement in his eyes faded as he saw in her the unmistakable signs of sexual arousal: her parted lips, her eyes, bright with excitement beneath the fear, the way she lay there, just waiting for his next move. Yeah. Now he knew what she was about. He’d seen this type before. But he’d never seen it so obviously displayed.

He let go of her hair and laughed, then looked back at the black guy. “Yeah. She was looking for a party, man. I think she was looking for a nice, hot party. A nice hot party with two hot guys.”

The black guy laughed in disbelief. “Shit! Well ain't she come to the right place?”

“I would say she has, man. Most definitely!”

He stood up and walked around towards her face, grabbed her hair in both hands and pulled her painfully to her knees, making her cry out.

“On your knees, bitch!” he said coldly. “Let’s have us some fun!”

Zanny looked up at him in horror. He held her up with one hand still tangled in her hair. She heard the sound of his zipper opening.

She was still dizzy from the slaps. Doc stood in front or her, his hips cocked forward, shoving his crotch at her face, his zipper open. He kept hold of her hair as he took his hardening cock in the other hand and slapped it heavily against her lips. Zanny screwed her face closed, trying not to feel the warm piece of meat as he rubbed it over her lips and slapped it against her cheek, as if knocking at a door. He was already excited and oozing pre-cum and his cock left spots of wetness on her skin.

“Come on,” he whispered urgently, “Come on, Bitch. Do it!”

She tried to turn her face to the side but he suddenly yanked her hair with brutal strength, jerking her face back to his seeking cock. Tears of pain flooded her eyes and when she opened her mouth to cry out she felt the head of his prick slide across the inside of her lips. She instinctively opened her mouth and felt his prick slip inside.

She moaned in protest as he rammed his meat into her mouth, but she knew enough to keep her teeth away from him. She raised her hands to his hips and grabbed on to his pants for balance, but the result was to bring his pants sliding down his legs, causing her to moan again.

This wasn’t the first cock she’d had in her mouth; far from it. In fact she was proud of her cock-sucking skills and reserved them as a special treat for those mean who she especially wanted to favor. But she’d never been orally raped before, never had a prick shoved between her lips, never been used so selfishly before, and her mind was flooded with thoughts as if she were somewhere far away watching this happen to someone else.

This is rape! she thought They’re raping me! This is what it feels like!

And yet she couldn’t understand the feeling of fierce excitement that burned deep inside her, that flared more strongly when she felt this stranger’s burning need, felt the urgency of his brutal thrusts.

“Yes, baby!” he said, “That’s it. Take it, Baby, take it!”

Behind her she heard Z laugh excitedly. “Oh yeah! We gonna have ourselves a par-tay!”

Doc was humping steadily into her mouth, pushing, then pulling out, and with each stroke she felt him growing, getting longer, thicker, and harder. She moaned again in protest and shame at being used like this, but he still held her by her hair, and she could not get away now. He rapidly unzipped his jacket and flung it open to give him a better view of her lips stretched around his pole, and he used her hair to pull her face in over his cock, then out and away in counter rhythm to his hip thrusts, forcing her lips to slide over his burgeoning shaft, pulling her off balance.

She reached out for his legs to steady herself, taking hold of his naked thighs. His legs were rock-hard, the muscles tense as he fucked her face with a slow and savage urgency. Raising her eyes slightly, she could see his flat stomach, taut and quivering as he ground into her face. He was heavy and hot in her mouth, and his breath hissed through his teeth, punctuated every now and again with a groan of pleasure whenever she touched an especially sensitive spot.

It was too much for her. The feel of his masculine hardness and muscle sent a wild irrational wave of excitement through her body. His strength, his need, overwhelmed her. He had no regard for her. She was nothing to him but a mouth, a place to shove his cock, to get his rocks off, and that knowledge and the feel of his desperate lust suddenly thrilled her. She squeezed his legs in her growing excitement, feeling his hardness, and her moans changed from sounds of protest to groans of desire. He felt good sliding between her lips and over her tongue, even his hands tangled in her hair, urging her head back and forth felt good.

She sucked in breath through her nose on his outstroke, holding her breath as she fucked into the back of her throat and she fought down the urge to gag. In her excitement she grabbed onto his buttocks, felt them clench and release as he fucked her face, and found that this way she could pull him to her more easily,

She knew how lewd she must look, on her knees, sucking him off like a common whore, but the image only made her hotter. She suddenly wanted to please him, wanted to be good for him, and she made no attempt to hide the fact. She began to use her tongue, to swirl it around the soft head of his cock when he pulled out, loving the feel of him, the musky male taste of his pre-cum as it leaked from his prick onto her tongue..

Her mouth was filled with his meat, and a mixture composed of her saliva and his secretions rolled down her lower lip to her chin. She swallowed to keep more of the juices from streaming down her face and heard him hiss with evil pleasure as he felt her throat contract around the head of his dick..

She felt Z moving behind her on his knees, and then he was working her skirt up around her hips, exposing her ass in her sheer silky panties, which she knew hid nothing from his eyes. He ran his hands over her ass and moaned. “Fuck! This bitch is something, man! You should check out this ass!”

She squealed in surprise as he suddenly slapped her ass. His hands were at her panties, pulling them down, and there was nothing she could do about it but moan in shame, the sound muffled by the sudsy sound of Doc’s cock pumping into her mouth.